


Boy Girl

by literature_and_ocean_waves



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 'Everything is the same but both Charles and Erik are women' AU, F/F, F/M, Genderbend, and they rescue erik from the camps, cross-dressing, lots of women supporting women, mentions of the comics story where steve and logan are buds, mentions of the possibilty of sexual violence, mentions of time specific sexism, oh. pietro and wanda are both girls too, seriously yall this is the early 60s what did ya expect, ties in with Just Before Dawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literature_and_ocean_waves/pseuds/literature_and_ocean_waves
Summary: "It was Schmidt’s idea to cut Erika’s hair. "





	Boy Girl

**Author's Note:**

> So this story takes place in the same universe as my other story, "Just Before Dawn".  
> I am naming it the 'Everything is the same but both Charles and Erik are women' AU.  
> I really wanted to explore the concept of gender and power in post-World War II society.  
> So Erik is a woman and so is Charles. So is Pietro, but that does not really come up much.  
> Also. I am a lesbian myself, so writing a 1960s lesbian love story was super fun.  
> Cheers, lovelies!

It was Schmidt’s idea to cut Erika’s hair. 

“I am afraid I cannot be around all the time to protect you, my dear,” he said, voice silky as he pulled out a pair of sheers. “My soldiers do get rather… bored all the way out here. And a young little thing like you might tempt more than a few lonely men.” He chuckled as if this was an amusing scenario. Erika just stood there and tried not to tremble. “But if you look more like a boy, then they might not get as distracted.”

Erika held perfectly still as Schmidt lopped off her pigtail braids. When she had arrived at the camp, she had been happy that the Nazis hadn’t taken her hair like some of the other prisoners. It seemed like a good sign. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. 

Instead they had just shot her Mama right in front of her and then she quite literally broke Schmidt’s office. Her hair for her mother. Not a good trade. 

Now she didn’t even get to keep her hair. She looked at herself in the office mirror. A tall, scrawny boy of about fourteen stared back at her. His face was sunken from lack of food and the striped prisoner clothes hung lose on his skinny hips. As much as Erika hated to admit it, Schmidt was right. She did look like a boy. Maybe this could work. 

Anything to survive this. She owed Mama that much. 

\------

Erika met Django Maximoff six months after arriving at the camp. 

He looked like a lost little boy, trailing behind the other Romani prisoners. Erika suspected that, watching as she could from the sidelines, he would not last more than a fortnight. But then he surprised her, approaching her quietly at the gate by the fence. 

“Pssst. Hey, you,” he whispered. Erika was tempted to just ignore him. She did not have time for any other prisoners; kindness got you killed here. 

“Pssst! Vrajitor!” he said. Erika knew enough Romani to know that meant ‘wizard’. She turned and hissed at him. 

“What?” she growled. “What do you want?”

The boy smiled. “Can you get me out of here? I can pay you.”

That was... unexpected. Erika just stared at him. “What?” she repeated. 

“Get me out of here and I will make it worth your while,” he said, pulling out a small jingling bag. Gold, with a few bit of silver, Erika’s powers told her. “I smuggled in what I could. The Nazis are playing on killing us all tomorrow. I’ve seen what your magic can do, moving things around and stuff.”

Erika frowned, thinking hard. Risking her neck to save this boy could get her killed. Even with Schmidt’s protection. On the other hand, gold and silver could go a long way in here. It may even be a way out. She looked at the gate. It would easily open with her powers and no one need ever know. 

“Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll help you. Just move fast.” She swung the gate open and the boy ran through, tumbling into the dirt next to her. She quickly locked everything back into place and dragged the boy into an alleyway, looking around for any Nazis nearby. The boy brushed himself off. 

“Thank you,” he said. “My name is Django.”

“Erika,” she replied, turning back to him and holding out her hand for the gold. Django just stared at her. 

“What?” she asked, thrusting out her hand, growling just slightly. “Gemme the gold. Or I shove you right back in there.”

Django handed her the gold bag, still looking shocked. “You’re a girl?” he whispered. 

Erika blinked and then realized her mistake, slamming Django up against the alley wall. 

“Don’t you dare tell anyone!” she snarled, lifting him up off his feet by the throat, voice an angry whisper. “If anyone should find out-“ She couldn’t even finish the thought. 

Django whimpered, his hands covering hers on his neck, and nodded. “I won’t tell,” he squeaked. “I promise.”

Erika nodded and dropped him to the ground. 

“Call me Erik from now on,” she said. “Shut up, do everything I say, and we might just make it out of here.”

\-----

They did make it out. Though just barely. 

The attack came one evening in spring about an hour after sunset. Erik and Django were hiding out in Schmidt’s old office. He had left the week before for Berlin; some kind of important meeting he said but Erik suspected he was fleeing from the possibility of soldiers. 

She and Django could see the Allied troops from the window. They were firing at the Nazis and really just making a big mess of things. Erik crouched down low with Django, not wanting to be spotted. She hated the Nazis as much anyone could hate anyone, but she didn’t trust the Allied soldiers either. No guarantees that they wouldn’t want her dead or worse. 

Suddenly, the door to the office burst open. A pair of men ran inside. One was tall and carried a shield with the American flag on it. The other was short and thick, dressed in a Canadian Special Forces uniform. A fat cigar stuck out of his mouth and were those knives coming out of his gloves? That wasn’t something Erik had seen before. 

The two men spoke rapidly to each other in English, pointing to Erik and Django. Erik got in front of Django, protective. What did these strangers want?

But the man with the shield just knelt down in front of her. His blue eyes were kind and soft, not like the cold, jagged stares of the Nazis. “It is okay,” he said, in very choppy German. “You are safe.” He offered Erik a hand. 

She looked from the hand to the man’s face and back again a few times. Then she took it. They did not have a choice. The American scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothing and the Canadian did the same with Django. They said a few more things to each other in English and then ran out the door at speeds Erik had never seen a human run before. 

Outside, it was complete chaos. The Allies fired on the Nazis and ripped apart buildings, getting all the prisoners out. The Nazis fought back, but it clear they were outnumbered and outgunned. The solider carrying her deflected bullets off his shield like they were popcorn kernels. Still. He did not fire a weapon. Just sort of ran interference, protecting prisoners from the barrage. 

The Canadian was another story entirely. He leaped from target to target, completely unfazed by the bullets flying at him, and stabbed the Nazis with his knives. Erik had ever seen such ferocity; he was like some sort of wild animal. Django held onto his back, protected against the onslaught. 

A ringing in Erik’s head made her look up. A grenade was headed right for them and with how the American solider was facing, he would not see it until it was too late. Running on pure instinct, she climbed onto his broad shoulders and stretched out her hands, her powers grabbing hold of the grenade, and freezing it in midair. Then she hurled it with all her might to where a small group of Nazis were firing from the side of a building. The grenade went off with a large bang and Erik could hear the screams of the Nazis as body parts went flying through the air. She smirked a little at the carnage. 

The solider carrying her did not notice what she had done, but the Canadian did. He stared at her for the longest moment, a strange expression on his face. But whatever he was thinking about must not have lasted too long because then he was right back to slicing and dicing Nazis. 

\-----

The man who saved her was named Captain Steven Rogers. Or Captain America as the troops seemed to call him. He took Erik, accompanied by his Canadian comrade, Logan Howlett, and Django, to an Allies safe house. All the prisoners were being looked after and treated for their injuries. Some would make it. Others, Erik knew, would not. 

The person who informed Erik of all of this was an Allied agent by the name of Peggy Carter. She spoke in flawless German, as she sat down with Erik and Django, who were inhaling the bread and soup they had been given. “Agent Howlett tells me that he witnessed quite an interesting feat from you,” she said, addressing Erik. “It is not every day that a grenade decides to behave rather like an Australian boomerang.”

Erik froze in mid-bite of her bread. Her eyes darted rapidly to the exits. If she threw the soup onto Agent Carter, grabbed Django, the two of them might be able to make a run for it. 

Some of her terror must have shown in her eyes because Agent Carter put a warm hand on her skinny wrist. “No need to run, dear,” she said. “We are not going to hurt you.” She smiled. “I am sure that you noticed Captain Rogers and Agent Howlett have some… uniqueness of their own. We aren’t going to make a fuss about it here.”

Something in her tone suggested that she was telling the truth and Erik relaxed a teeny bit, returning to her food. Agent Carter glanced around, making sure no one was there and whispered. “Even so, I would keep those powers under wraps. You never know who might be watching.” She lowered her voice a bit more. “And I would stay dressed as a boy for the time being. I can vouch for many of these men, but not all of them.” 

Erik nodded at her words. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “But how did you know?”

“Agent Howlett told me,” Agent Carter replied. “He has a… very keen sense of smell.” She patted Erik’s arm. “No need to worry though. He might be a little rough around the edges, but he is a good man. No young women are going to be harmed on his watch.”

\-----

Erik and Django traveled with the Allied forces for several weeks. They offered food and protection and neither teenager had anywhere else to go. Erik found herself spending what time she could with Peggy, who offered good council and a few tricks on fighting. She was brave and strong and Erik really liked her. 

Django kept to her side like a loyal puppy. They still had some of their gold, but they were saving it for when they may need it most. Both of them were orphans and as kind as the Allies had been, they would not stay around forever. Erik and Django needed a plan. 

One day in early summer, a group of Roma passed near the Allied encampment. They offered no threat and kept to themselves, not wanting to inadvertently anger the visiting soldiers. Django could not help himself. 

“I must go see them,” he told Erik. “They are my people.”

She agreed and the two visited with the Roma, who had managed to get through the war by staying out of sight and bothering no one. Django begged to go with them, as all of his community had been wiped out in the camps. But the Roma were uncertain. He was a strong boy and would work hard, but they had so little to offer already. 

Erik took Django aside and handed him the gold. “Here,” she said. “Our deal is fulfilled. We made it out of the camps. Now go.”

Django rapidly shook his head. “I cannot take this,” he said. “Not without you. You must come, too.”

“I am not Roma,” she replied. “Even if I reveal that I am a girl, I will not be welcome. Besides,” She thought of Schmidt and her insides burned with rage. “I have something that I need to do anyway.”

Django still seemed reluctant, but he knew by now not to try to persuade Erik of something she did not want. Instead, he hugged her tight and whispered good luck, before running to his people, the gold kept safe under his shirt. Erik just walked back to the Allies post. 

\-----

Captain Steven Rogers disappeared into the North Atlantic Ocean right before the war was officially ended. He was presumed dead, even if the inventor, Mr. Stark, immediately went hunting for him. The Allied troops were heartbroken and so was Erik. She had seen the goodness in that man and it shattered her to think that it had been snuffed out so quickly. 

Logan and Peggy mourned together, sharing drinks and telling stories of the man who had meant so much to them both. That was how Erik found them one evening, a satchel over her shoulder and fresh clothes on her back. 

“You’re leaving, aren’t you, kid?” Logan asked in his messy German. Erik nodded. 

“You guys will be heading back to North America soon enough,” she said. “It is time that I got on with my life.”

“Where will you go?” Peggy asked. 

“I don’t know yet,” she replied. “Berlin, first. Then wherever the trail takes me.” She would hunt down Klaus Schmidt until the day she died if she had to. 

Peggy offered her a hug and gave her some extra rations to take in her bag. “Stay strong,” she said. “And stay hidden. We women must defend ourselves because no one else will.”

Erik hugged her back. “I will, Agent Carter,” she said. “I promise.”

\-------

Erik did make it to Berlin. Then Austria, then Hungary. Then Spain, then Ireland. She picked up languages as she went, finally learning the ever valuable English while she was in Dublin. Though she was never quite able to shake the Irish dialect when she spoke it. Oh well. 

She hunted down Nazis in every place that she went and survived by stealing from her prey. Nazi gold may have been frowned upon in polite society, but it was still gold and may people would simply look the other way. She usually killed them afterwards, if she got the chance. 

She kept Peggy’s advice and continued to dress as a man. Her long, rangy body and sharp jawline made the illusion much easier than it might have been for another woman. She bought tailored clothes, wore a trilby, slicked back her hair, and did her best to blend in. It worked. No one ever even considered that she might be a woman. Even ladies on the street whispered to each other about how handsome she was. Secretly, she rather liked it. 

It was simple to get into things as a man. Nobody thought she should be escorted or wondered what she was doing walking around all alone. It was delightfully freeing and made her job so much easier. 

\----

In the late 50s, she met Django again. He and his adoptive family had been living in Czechoslovakia for the past year, forced to stay in one area thanks to the new Soviet laws. He invited her for a meal and the community welcomed her, happy to see again the young man who had rescued their most cherished son. 

Erik thought little of all of it, but surprised herself with how glad she was to see Django. They talked for hours together at her rented hotel room about what had happened in the camps and it felt good. Like cleaning out a festering wound. 

She had to stay in town for a few days to hunt down a Nazi in hiding and during that time she slept with Django. She had slept with a few people before, just little things to slack her lust. Though generally she took care of it herself, not wanting to risk any kind of exposure. But with Django, she felt safe and relaxed. He already knew every dirty little secret about her. There were absolutely no consequences. 

The nausea started in Brazil. 

At first, she contributed it to some kind of bug from the jungles. Most of her life had been spent in cool, mild Europe and the steamy forests were not something she was used to, even if she did kill a lot more Nazis then she expected. 

But the nausea persisted even after she got to England and with it came great fatigue. 

Finally, in France, she broke down and saw a doctor. She dressed as a woman for once, as this person was going to be examining her body. Good thing too, when the results came. 

“Congratulations, Mademoiselle Lehnsherr,” the doctor said, smiling cheerily. “You’re pregnant.” 

Fuck. 

Well she had three options and two of them were stupid. 

One was to get an abortion. That was out of the question. They were dangerous, usually happening in some back alley somewhere with a pointy piece of metal. She was not risking her life on something so foolhardy. 

Two was to keep the child when it was born and settle down. That was equally out of the question. She had a mission and even this was not going to stop her. But she could not take the child with her either. Hunting down Nazis all over the world was no place for an infant. 

That only left option three: give the child to Django. He had mentioned liking children during their many talks, even if he had yet to find a wife. Well here was a solution that worked out for everyone. 

Erik hunted down one more Nazi, this one hiding out in Poland ironically, and then quietly moved to the Czechoslovakian town, renting out a cheap hotel for an indefinite stay. She did not want to run into Django until the birth was over, as he would probably go on about something ridiculous, like the two of them getting married. But travel as an unaccompanied pregnant woman was beyond out of the picture. So staying in this one place for a while it was. 

Her daughters were born in May in the middle of the night. A dark haired one who came ten minutes before her alabaster haired sister. Erik wasted no time and hurried them off to Django, leaving the twins in a basket on his doorstep. She was out of the country by the next nightfall. 

\-----

Erik did not think of her daughters often. Or least she tried not to. Schmidt became her whole world like he never had before. Her mission had always been about avenging the dead. Now it was about protecting the living. 

Finally, finally, just a month before her daughters’ fifth birthday, she caught Schmidt on a yacht in the Florida Keys. She had a knife in hand and was ready to end it all. She would kill everyone on this stupid boat if she had to. 

But then something pierced the inside of her mind like a thousand pieces of glass and she fell into the cold water below. 

Dammit all! She would not lose him again! 

Erik could feel the submarine as it slipped down into the depths and grabbed ahold of it with everything she had. The sub pulled her under, but she did not care. She ripped and tore at the metal, wanting to crush the sub with her bare hands. Her daughters’ little faces filled her mind; she would do it for them, she would die for them. And then maybe, maybe the world could be safe enough for them to live in peace. 

“Please,” voice called out. “You have to let go!”

A pair of arms encircled Erik’s waist and tried to pull her towards the surface. 

“Please,” the voice said again. How could she hear them underwater? “Please, Erika. You’ll drown.” 

Erika? No one had called her that in nearly two decades. 

But the voice was right. She rapidly was losing air. Her head felt woozy and the arms around her pulled her to the surface.  
She took a huge gulp of air, coughing. 

“Get off me!” she yelled, throwing the stranger off her back and getting a good look at them. She met the gaze of young woman, maybe about her own age, who had pink lips, a slightly chubby face, and startling blue eyes. 

“You were in my head!” Erik shouted, treading water. “How did you do that?!”

“You have your gifts, I have mine,” the woman replied in a rather posh English accent. She was surprisingly calm, waving a small hand to the nearby boat to fetch them. “Please. Just calm down. You are going to catch an awful cold in this water.”

The boat tossed down a life preserver, which Erik and the English woman grabbed onto. As they were being pulled up, Erik whispered to her “How did you know? How did you know I am a woman?”

The other woman smiled brightly, white teeth shining and her apple cheeks bright pink from the water. 

“Charlotte Francine Xavier, at your service,” she said, holding out her hand for a shake. “You’re not alone, Erika.”

\------

Charlotte Xavier was the strangest woman Erik had ever met. She was short, petite, and very curvy, looking like any of the young mother characters in the fairy tale books of Erik’s youth. She wore her hair in a short brown bob and between that and the English accent, not to mention the kindness brimming in those oddly bright eyes, she reminded Erik of Peggy. Though a good few inches shorter and infinitely less intimidating. 

And Charlotte knew about Erik’s true identity because Charlotte was a telepath. A mind reader. It could not be helped she had said. 

Raven, Charlotte’s adoptive little sister, was not nearly as strange. But she knew, too. Because she was a shapeshifter. Which meant understanding human bodies way more than the average person. 

Agent Moira MacTaggert, a member of the CIA, had no special powers of her own. Beyond apparently a very patient demeanor to put up with all the sexist commentary from her fellow agents. She also knew. But only because she had accidentally caught a glimpse of Erik changing out of her wet suit. 

No one else knew though and Erik was happy to keep it that way. 

“We won't tell anyone, Erik,” Charlotte said as they settled into their quarters at the CIA base. “Your secret is safe with us.”

Erik nodded. She believed her. Women had to stick together. 

“Tell me everything you know about mutants.”

\-------

It did not take much to convince the CIA to let Erik and Charlotte go find the other mutants. 

“Erik is such a darling gentlemen,” Charlotte positively cooed to their bespectacled babysitter of an agent. “He will certainly protect me on this little trip.”

The agent looked more than a little flustered and agreed to the arrangement, promising them a car would be ready by tomorrow. 

As they walked down the halls together, Charlotte was practically bouncing with excitement. A feat that was only emphasized by her rather expansive chest. Erik could not help but smile. 

“Why do you do that?” she asked conversationally. Charlotte blinked up at her. 

“Do what, my friend?”

“Act all feminine and helpless,” Erik said, her eyes serious. “I have seen the might of your powers, Charlotte. They are a force to be reckoned with.”

Charlotte just shrugged. “Sometimes it is just simpler to play the game. So that later, when the time really requires my strength, my enemies will not see it coming.” She smirked at Erik. “Besides, not every woman can look as much of a strapping young lad like you can.”

Erik thought she had a point. 

\----

Erik and Charlotte drove out the next morning, a list of mutants and their locations kept safe in their dashboard box. 

At the first hotel they stayed in, Charlotte convinced the check in boy that she and Erik were siblings. 

At the second hotel, she said they were newlyweds. Which was not too terribly far from the truth, as that night they fell into bed together. 

Erik had been with women before and she usually found that she preferred it over men. Men were fine and it was pleasurable, but there was sometimes a bit of a disconnection. Especially since she lived her life as one of them most of the time and had no patience for their need to put her into a box. 

But even while sex with women had always been good, it was nothing compared to what being with Charlotte was like. Erik did not know if it was the telepathy or what, but Charlotte had her reaching highs she never thought possible. 

When it was all over, she lay in Charlotte’s arms, face buried in the soft pillows that were her chest. 

I could get used to this, Erik thought to herself. 

“Me, too,” Charlotte replied. 

Erik just snorted and playfully pinched her on the thigh. 

\------

Their first two meetings with mutants went nowhere. It was understandable. They offered something rather unusual and many of these people had learned to live with their powers all on their own. Still. They were glad for the talks and kept the contact info. 

This left Erik and Charlotte with some free time in-between driving. Which they spent either playing chess or in bed. Or sometimes both. 

After one such incident, the two of them lay together and stared at the ceiling, sharing a cigarette. 

Prior to the lovemaking, they had been talking about all the things Erik had done while disguised as man. Some of it may have even bled into the actual lovemaking part; they both were rather turned on by discussion and debate. 

“Do you want to be a man?” Charlotte asked not unkindly, as she took a long drag from the cigarette. Erik thought about it, puffing at the smoke and playing with it. 

“No,” she replied slowly. “Not really anyway. I am comfortable with my body as it is and I always… think of myself as a woman. Even if I use this name.” She ran her thumb over the edges of the comforter. “But until women are given power and respect, I doubt I will ever be able to play that part.” She took another drag. “Even as a kid I was always really independent.”

“Me too,” Charlotte said, resting her cheek on Erik’s shoulder. “My mother scolded me a lot for it. So I found other ways to express different parts of my identity while still going along with the game. Mostly through hard work and then playing men for suckers.”

Erik chuckled and tapped some ash into the tray. 

They stayed quiet for a while after that, just dozing. 

“I have two daughters,” Erik said suddenly. She wasn’t sure what made her say it. 

“I know,” Charlotte answered, nuzzling her. “Didn’t mean to snoop, darling, but they are on the forefront of many of your thoughts.”

Erik thought that was fair. “I am doing all of this for them, you know,” she said. “Wanting to make the world safe for them.”

Charlotte nodded. “I think that is a wonderful idea,” she said. 

“Even if it means killing?” Erik asked. Charlotte had been nothing but pacifistic during their time together. Sweet and gentle and motherly. 

Charlotte looked at Erik seriously, her mouth a grin line. “I have killed before,” she said, frank as can be. 

Erik dropped the cigarette in shock.

“What?!” she cried. “When?! Where?!”

Charlotte shrugged. “My stepfather and stepbrother. They both had their eyes on Raven, even though she wasn’t more than thirteen years old.” Erik trembled just slightly, remembering that old conversation with Shaw, who then had been called Schmidt. 

“I lost patience after a while. Nothing that is good in this world can ever forgive them for what they wanted to do to her.” She took a very long drag. “So one night I shut off their minds. The maids found them the next day. Coroner said they died of some sort of aneurism. Mother died not long after that. Don’t think she could bare the scandal of being widowed twice.”

Charlotte flopped on her back, staring at the ceiling. “Telepathy is a beautiful gift sometimes. I can see into the hearts and minds and souls of everyone. Really feel what it’s like to be them. Empathy in its strongest form.” She bit her lip, worrying it. 

“That is why I am so hopeful all the time. I feel the possibility in each person, you know? How could I not love them for that?” She covered her eyes with her hand. “But sometimes I see things that are just truly horrible. In men usually, but occasionally in women, too. The desire to force someone down and to try and own them through action. I saw a few of these people at Oxford. Killed them too.” She shivered. 

“There was this one bloke who went to the bar every night where Raven and I used to hang out. Handsome, fit, clever, the whole package. Every night he hit on girls from the university. And every night he would try to put something in their drinks. Drug them so that he could take them home and attack them.” Charlotte growled, like a mother bear defending her cubs. “At first I wanted to give him a chance. I made him forget that he wanted to drug these girls and instead just had him talk to them. But the next night he would always be back, with a fresh batch of substances. So when he went home one night, I killed him. Forced him to think he was having a heart attack.” She snorted darkly. “The medics assumed that the drugs he had were for himself and caused a massive hallucination. Those girls at the bar never knew and never got hurt while I was there.”

Erik listened to her story with complete silence. When it was over, she hugged Charlotte close. “We can protect them together,” she said. “Not just girls in bars. But women everywhere. Mutants, too. We can make the world safer. Together.”

Charlotte’s smile was radiant like the sun as she looked up at Erik. 

“I think so too, my friend.”

\-----

Charlotte said that the mutant was working inside. But due to the obvious nature of the establishment, Charlotte herself could not go in. Oh she could have made everyone think she was a man via illusions, but really it was just a waste of energy. Instead, she sat inside of Erik’s head and directed her inside, pointing out the mutant when she spotted her. 

Angel, as the name Charlotte provided, was Latina and quite lovely, though much too young for Erik’s standards. Erik handed her the wad of bills and she smirked coyly at her. “For that, Daddio, you get a private dance,” she purred. Erik was more than a little embarrassed as no one had ever called her Daddio. Charlotte cackled at her expense from inside her head. 

“I was thinking more of I show you mine, if you show me yours.”

Angel rolled her eyes, looking haughty and still beautiful. “Baby, that is not how it works here,” she huffed. 

Erik smirked and snapped her fingers. The champignon bucket lifted itself off the table and flew around the room, before landing gracefully at Angel’s feet. Angel stared at it for a solid minute, while Erik sat patiently on the bed. 

“My turn,” Angel said, finally. She unclipped her bra and unfurled her wings, flying around the room in the same manner as the champignon bucket. Erik grinned. 

“How would you like a job where you can keep your clothes on?”

Erik agreed to meet Angel at her apartment once her shift was over and she was packed. She did not have much, just a medium-sized suit case. She hurried down to the car and was startled when she saw Charlotte. “Oh!” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had your wife with you.”

Something akin to sunlight bloomed inside of Erik’s chest at the word wife. 

Charlotte just laughed disarmingly. “Oh you are fine, sweetie. No harm done. Erik and I are not married.” She grinned mysteriously. “For… reasons.” Charlotte put her fingers to her temple, projecting something. 

Angel inhaled sharply, looking at Erik. “Oh my goodness…” she whispered, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

Erik frowned, unsure as to what Charlotte had shown her and going to ask. But then Charlotte hurried everyone into the car and they got on the road. Angel fell asleep after a few miles, clearly wore out. Erik, while looking out over the highway, took the opportunity to mentally converse with Charlotte. 

“What exactly did you show her?” Erik asked. She did not want to assume Charlotte had done something mean, as that was not Charlotte’s usual method. But you never knew. 

Charlotte just beamed at her. “Let me show you,” she hummed, once again putting her fingers to her temples and gently pressing an image into Erik’s mind. 

Erik felt her breath catch in her throat. She saw herself, dressed in a beautiful ball gown of deep maroon. The dress clung to her body, emphasizing her long legs and strong shoulders. Black, winged eyeliner shone about her eyes, making her already intense gaze appear regal and commanding. She looked like a warrior queen of some forgotten storybook. 

Erik turned and stared at Charlotte, who smiled lovingly. She took Erik’s hand into her own small, square one, squeezing it. 

“It is how I see you, love,” she murmured. “Boy or girl depending on the occasion and always, always beautiful.”

 

The End.


End file.
